A/N: Hello everyone! Here I am with another new story that I probably shouldn't have started since I already have two going.
This is an Alternate Universe story, which means Harry and Hermione have not met. You will see Hermione's history during parts of the story, as well as Harry's. This story does not necessarily follow canon as we know it! I did try to stick to some bits that I have enjoyed so far in the books.
In any case, I hope you all enjoy this- it follows along a basic storyline of the movie Before Sunrise which has become a new favourite of mine over the past few weeks.
And a very BIG thanks to research_dome from portkey for brit-picking this for me- I REALLY appreciate it!
Hermione Granger hurried down the busy sidewalk of Diagon Alley. "Of all the days to be late," she muttered, heading towards The Leaky Cauldron.
She was set to interview the star of Puddlemere United; the one and only Harry Potter. It was her last assignment for the Daily Prophet- the next day she was leaving for another wizarding paper in Glasgow that was paying higher and would allow her to do more of what she wanted, instead of taking over Rita Skeeter's gossip columns when the other woman had moved to take control of the paper.
Hermione also wanted to be a novelist. From her days as a child, she had written fat notebooks full of stories and ideas, but none of them were right to be published.
"I hate Rita Skeeter, I hate Rita Skeeter…" she was now mumbling as she reached the pub. Pulling her bushy hair back into a messy bun, she reached into her oversized leather bag for her glasses, which she didn't actually need, but they made her look more like a serious reporter. Straightening out her robes, she went up the stairs to the second floor. Hermione hated doing reports on Quidditch stars, but she knew it was Rita's revenge for quitting on such a short notice.
She looked at the slip of paper in her hand, making her way down to room 204. Knocking lightly, she heard a male voice say enter. Opening the door, she saw Harry Potter himself lounging on a sofa while a nervous looking blond man ran around the room, picking up scattered pieces of paper. He looked up and gasped.
"You're late!" he was almost jumping out of his skin.
"I know I was late, and I'm sorry." Hermione frowned. "Is this going to be a big issue?"
"Not at all," Harry got up and approached her. "Harry Potter."
"Hermione Granger," she shook his hand in a businesslike manner. "I'm from the Daily Prophet."
"You've missed the flurry of reporters, as you can see," Harry gestured to the room.
"I guess that makes me luckier than most," she smiled briefly and he grinned. "Shall we get on with this? You can enjoy the rest of your day then,"
"Sure," Harry resumed his seat on the sofa and Hermione perched on a chair. "Colin, out!"
"But Harry," Colin Creevey seemed to be on the verge of protesting, but one look from Harry made his jaw snap shut. "I'll just go downstairs then," he disappeared.
"He didn't have to leave," Hermione replied, digging through her bag for her parchment and quills.
"Yes he did," Harry stretched lazily. "I never allow that guy in here while I'm doing an interview. You'd never get any answers."
"Manager, aye?" Hermione asked.
"That would be it," Harry said. "He's not a bad guy, but he's just a little high strung when it comes to interviews. Colin's more concerned with me saying things I shouldn't about the team and about my private life than he should be."
"Ah," Hermione replied. "Well all right then," she consulted the list of questions Rita had presented her with. "Alright, since we already know what position you play and what team you're on, why don't we skip those?" she rolled her eyes and Harry laughed. "What inspired you to play Quidditch?"
"Hmmm," Harry bit his lower lip. "Well, the fact that my dad played for Gryffindor when he was at Hogwarts, he was a Chaser though. And then also our team captain my first three years, Oliver Wood, is phenomenal. I'm excited that I get to play on the same team with him now. He works us hard but we've come far under his guide."
Hermione scribbled his answer down as quickly as she could and looked at the next question. "Do you use any good luck charms or spells before a match?"
"Like what?" Harry seemed amused by the question.
"Like… not washing your socks…" Hermione tried to think. "Or… wearing a black cat bone…" Harry laughed again.
"No, nothing like that," his eyes were twinkling.
"That was a rather absurd question wasn't it?" Hermione also wore a wry smile.
"Never been asked that before," Harry replied.
"There's a first time for everything isn't there," Hermione said. She looked down at her list. Rita had written out quite a few questions, but Harry handled them politely and patiently. She had to admit he was different from most other Quidditch players she had ever interviewed. While the others were usually all high and mighty on themselves, Harry seemed easy on answering all the questions she fired at him, even though some of them bordered on being very personal.
"All right, last one," Hermione said, with some relief and some regret. She'd actually been enjoying herself.
"Too bad," Harry replied, with that same twinkling look in his eyes. She glanced up quickly to see if he was just kidding around, but he was looking at her somewhat intensely.
"Oh bloody hell," Hermione muttered, her face turning red. "I can't believe she put this one on there,"
"What is it?" He asked, sitting up straighter.
"Are you dating anyone?" she asked, her face as red as a setting sun. "I'm sorry," Hermione apologised before he could even respond. "My editor, she wrote these out and I didn't have a chance to look them over…"
"It's all right," Harry wasn't fazed. "Believe me, I know Rita Skeeter… I've had enough run in's with her to last a lifetime." He grinned at her again. 'She's cute,' he thought to himself.
Harry liked women who weren't impressed by his name and what came attached to it. It was hard, therefore, for him to find a girlfriend by those standards. He had been surveying Hermione during the interview, and noticed many things. For starters, she wore dark professional reporter's robes, yet he could see a coffee stain on the collar of the white blouse she wore underneath. Her hair was tied back, but several bushy tendrils escaped and framed each side of her face. Her fingers were stained with ink as she wrote furiously across many sheets of parchment.
"Try working for her," Hermione was saying now. "I'm not one to complain… but ever since she took over the Prophet it's been run more like Witch Weekly." She turned over a fresh sheet of parchment. "But if I don't get this answer for her, I may as well be cursed."
"We wouldn't want that," Harry sat back. "Single, I'm afraid. Still looking, but no takers."
"That's surprising," Hermione remarked as she wrote his answer down.
"Well, not if you're picky, like me," Harry said. "I don't like girls who come after me for my name. I like someone who wants me for who I am and not what I've done in my lifetime."
"That's reasonable," Hermione answered.
"What about you?" Harry asked, interested. "Are you single?"
"Me?" she seemed surprised. "Well, yes, I am single. I'm quite focused on my work, and haven't much time for dating."
"I see," Harry said. "That's reasonable," he teased.
She shot him a half smirk half smile as she gathered up her parchment. "Thank you very much for your time," she held out her hand and he took it, squeezing it gently.
"It's been a rare pleasure," he replied. "I have one question to ask you, however."
"What's that?" she asked, putting the stack in her bag and closing it.
"Would you happen to know of anyplace around here that serves a good lunch?" Harry asked. "I don't get to Diagon Alley much…"
"You should try Hogarth's." Hermione replied immediately. "It's right around the bend next to Gringotts. I've been going there for years and I've never had a bad meal."
"Thank you," Harry grinned at her again and she couldn't help but smile back.
"Well, I've got to go. Thank you again," they shook hands once more and Hermione felt a slight jolt this time when their skin made contact. He nodded his head and she turned to leave.
Colin came back in as soon as Hermione was gone, making Harry suspect he was standing right outside the entire time. "Are you ready to go?"
"No," Harry replied. "I think I'm going to stick around Diagon Alley the rest of today."
"But Harry, you have to be back for practice tomorrow! And you know that if you don't get a good night's sleep and a good dinner, you won't be fit and then Oliver will be angry at me!" Colin seemed on the verge of tears.
"Oliver's not going to be angry with you, because I'm not going to have a bad practice," Harry had to force himself not to get annoyed with Colin.
"Are you sure Harry?" Colin was hopping from foot to foot.
"Positive." Harry replied. "Go on back and I'll catch up with you later on. Go!" he motioned when Colin looked like he wasn't going to budge. He breathed a sigh of relief when the younger man left. Gathering up his bag and his cloak, Harry left the hotel room for Hogarth's.
*** *** ***
Hermione pushed back a lock of hair as she hurriedly put together all the interview questions so she could get them to Rita and be done with it all. Taking a bite of her sandwich that had just recently arrived, she bent her head over her work, not noticing anything but what she was doing.
Harry entered Hogarth's, hoping that for once people wouldn't swarm him and start demanding autographs. Looking around the somewhat crowded restaurant, he soon spied the person he was looking for. Weaving his way through the tables, he was at her table in moments.
"Fancy seeing you here," he grinned.
Hermione glanced up. "Oh!" she cried, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"Quidditch players get hungry too," Harry replied. "And besides, why do you think I asked for a recommendation?"
"Right, right." Hermione said. "I'm just finishing up your interview." She moved a stack of papers aside. "Care to sit down?"
"Don't mind if I do," Harry replied, setting his bag and cloak down and sliding into the booth next to her. "So, what sorts of Rita Skeeter-esque facts are you writing into this?"
"You seem to know Rita well," Hermione commented, moving the papers out of his reach. "How many times have you met her?"
"Too many times," Harry replied. "She always seems to know when there's a scandal brewing and there's hardly any truth to her stories."
"Well that's what separates a good reporter from the bad," Hermione answered pertly. "I know how to write a good interview, whereas she…"
"Doesn't." Harry finished. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to imply you were anything like her."
"Well, apology accepted." She replied. "I don't mind if you sit here, but I want to finish this and drop it off so I can leave,"
"Sure," Harry responded as a waitress came over. He placed an order for a sandwich and some chips, along with a butterbeer. As he waited for his food, Harry found himself looking at the woman seated next to him. She had taken off her robes, and the coffee stain was now gone from her collar, even though the ink smudges were still on her fingers.
"What?" her voice snapped him out of his gaze.
"What?" he repeated.
"Why were you staring at me?" Hermione asked.
"I didn't mean to," Harry said. "I'm just waiting for my lunch."
"You're not getting a sneak peek at this," she sounded amused now.
"I wasn't trying to!" Harry held up his hands.
"Sure you weren't," she replied. "I know you Quidditch player types; I've certainly met enough,"
"What does that mean?" Harry asked, sitting back in the booth.
"It means that all Quidditch players use their… 'Quidditch player charm' to get what they want," Hermione replied smartly.
"I don't have any 'Quidditch player charm', Harry said in amazement. "In fact, I've often been told I rank low on the charming factor."
"Who'd have thought?" Hermione quipped, returning her attention to her work. Harry watched her again for a few minutes and then started to look around the restaurant as his food arrived. He ate in silence, listening to Hermione mutter to herself every now and then about her story.
Harry looked at her again as he drank his butterbeer. His eyes wandered down the slope of her neck, to where her skin disappeared beneath the plain white blouse. He looked at the way her teeth ran repeatedly over her bottom lip as she concentrated, and how her mouth gently curved out when she suddenly smiled.
"Finished!" she said, tossing the quill down.
"Can I see it now?" Harry teased.
"You can see it tomorrow in the Daily Prophet," Hermione said, snatching up the papers and putting them safely in her bag with all her notes. Harry tried to give her an appealing grin but she shook her head, her own lips threatening to break out in a smile.
"I told you, I'm not falling for that," she teased back. "I've become quite immune to it."
"All right," Harry leaned back and eyed her as she stretched, arching her back. "So why is a reporter like you working for the Daily Prophet anyway?"
Hermione smiled. "I won't be, after I take this in. You were my last assignment and tomorrow morning I'm heading for Glasgow, to work on another wizarding paper there."
"Wow," Harry replied. "That's wonderful," he made a mental note to visit Glasgow more often.
"Well, it's exactly the type of paper I've always thought of myself working on," Hermione replied, her eyes now bright with excitement. "And besides that, it gives me the free time to do what I really want."
"What might that be?" Harry asked, curious.
"To be a novelist," she blushed slightly. "It might sound silly, but when I was a child I wrote journals and journals of ideas and short stories. I'll probably never publish those," Hermione remarked, still red.
"I don't think it sounds silly at all," Harry said honestly. "I think it's great you're going for your dream."
"Thanks," Hermione replied. "What about you, is this your dream or did you want to be something else?"
"Actually, it is." Harry said, leaning forward. "I mean, everyone knows my story, with Voldemort and all that right?" Hermione nodded. "After all that was over… I just wanted as normal a life as possible."
"And you call being a Quidditch superstar normal?" Hermione asked.
"No, not at all," Harry grinned and they both laughed. "But I love playing Quidditch, and my life would be in the spotlight either way, even if I didn't do this."
"Good point," Hermione said, still grinning.
"So what are you doing the rest of the day?" Harry asked.
"I don't know yet," Hermione shrugged. "I mean, I figured I'd just take a room in a hotel somewhere because I sold my flat and all my belongings have been sent on ahead."
"Sounds like you're all set to go then," Harry said.
"Pretty much," she answered. "Speaking of which, I should go drop this off at the Prophet so it can make tomorrow's edition.
Harry moved out of the booth and grabbed his bags as Hermione did the same. He followed her to the front where she took out her velvet moneybag. "Oh, lunch is on me," he insisted, closing her bag.
"Oh no, I can't let you do that," Hermione shook her head but Harry only grinned.
"I insist," he said, paying before she could do anything. They walked out of Hogarth's together and stood on the sidewalk.
"Thank you, that was very nice of you," Hermione tucked back a strand of her bushy hair.
"It's the least I can do," Harry waved his hand. "It was nice of you to tell me about this place."
"Sure," she replied with a smile. "Well I should go…" Hermione was startled to realise she didn't really want to leave.
"Right, sorry." Harry held out his hand again and they shook. "Perhaps if we play near Glasgow you can interview me again," he winked and she laughed.
"I'll be sure and keep an eye on the Quidditch schedules." Hermione replied. She waved as she turned and began to make her way down the street. Arriving at the Daily Prophet office quickly, she made her way up to Rita's room.
"Come in," the busy, nasal voice of her now former boss called through the door. Hermione strode in, pulling the sheaf of parchments from her bag.
"Here's your interview," she said coolly, placing them on the desk.
"Did you get all the questions?" Rita asked.
"Yes," Hermione replied in the same cool voice. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared down at the other woman. "That's it then,"
"Yes, it is," Rita said, standing up. "Good luck to you, Hermione," she plastered a false smile over her face.
"Thanks," Hermione politely shook her hand and turned, closing the office door behind her. She waved to several former co-workers and practically raced down the stairs. Once out of the building, she let out a loud, happy cry and jumped in the air.
"Yes! I'm free!" she grinned, not caring that several people were giving her strange looks.
Haha okay I know that seems like a weird place to leave things off, and the story will pick up some romance in the next chapter and the plot really takes off as well.
Hope you'll stick around and read some more! See you next week!